Marvel Imagines
by GraceTheAuthor
Summary: I've always wanted to do one of these. I take requests.
1. Wildcat

The day he was told he had a child was the day he cried. Unbeknownst to him, the pretty dark brunette had conceived the last time he'd been with her. Seven months later, she went into premature labor and died giving birth to his daughter. He cried because she'd been such a pretty woman, inside and out, because he had no idea how to raise a child.

Her named her _ Howlett, the name her momma had often told him was her favorite. When she cried, she sounded like a baby cougar. He called her his little Wildcat. The name stuck, especially when she discovered she had a variation of his mutation.

Instead of claws between her knuckles, they came out of the bases of them, sliding over her fingers to rest in sharp, curved points. The first time, she'd been mad at one of the other mutants at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters (what a mouthful, huh?), and it had hurt, bled and scared her. Charles had immediately informed him that his daughter's mutation had finally showed up. He'd taken her into his arms and rocked her until she calmed down.

She'd grown into them beautifully and was as deadly as him. But she was always careful with them, having heard the tale of when her uncle had broken his when they had still been bone. And they never once broke or fractured. Until that one fateful encounter with a group of men in Canada.

They'd been buying some charcoal pencils for her, what with her being excellent when it came to drawing people, a trait inherited from the pretty, dark haired brunette. They spied her, this lean, curvy young woman with long mahogany waves framing her angular face. Logan was inside, debating on how many pencils she'd broken by gripping them too tight. They cornered her and one vegan to hit her. She fought back and she fought dirty, letting her claws come out.

They got her to the ground, three grown men no match for even her. One of them stepped on her hands and her claws snapped, as well as the bones still inside her flesh. She let out a bloodcurdling, wildcat scream. Logan dropped the box of pencils and ran out. He was savage as he punished each one, then took her to the truck and sat her beside it.

She trembled, sobbing, bones sticking out of her fingers, claws snapped. Blood ran down her wrists as her stomach roiled with pain. His heart broke and he cried silent tears with her. People who had seen most, if not all of it, felt sorrow for the young mutant, unable to comprehend her pain, yet shuddering with sympathy.

"It hurts, Da," she sobbed. "Fuck, it hurts."

"I know, bub, I know," he murmured. "Let's have a doctor set your hands then we'll go to that scientist friend of yours and see what he can do, alright?" She nodded. Once her hands had been reset, they healed in about an hour, but her claws were stuck unsheathed.

Being mutated as they were, they left the truck at home and ran to New York where the scientist currently lived. Logan knocked on the door instead of her, for she was still kind of shell shocked. Instead of it buzzing open like it normally did, the scientist himself opened it.

"What are you doing here?" he frowned.

"Listen, bub," the Wolverine growled, face fiercer that it normally was. "I need to know if you can help Wildcat."

"Most times she refuses help, especially mine," he replied. _ showed him her broken claws, lips trembling. The playboy millionaire genius scrubbed his face.

"I hope the other guy looks worse," he sighed, turning around. The door was open, so both Howletts' took that as an invitation, the elder one closing it. They followed him to his lab, where he had _ sit on a stool and fist her hands before holding them out.

"What do you think, Jarvis?" he asked.

"About an inch in diameter at the base, then narrowing to half an inch, sir," a British disembodied voice replied.

"Alright, _, let me see what I can do." He tinkered with some white liquid metal for a bit, asked for some DNA, then tinkered some more.

"They have to be able to slide in and out without pain, Tony," _ said. He nodded.

"I think I've got it," he replied, putting the now white liquid into a needle. "When I inject you, the serum will act with your body to heal your claws. However, it will take awhile to do so, and the liquid metal of it will encase your bones, if not replacing them."

Logan scowled at how similar the process was to the experimentation he had gone through.

"Will it hurt?" he asked. "And how long will it take?"

"It'll feel like growing pains," Tony replied. "I added special chemicals to the serum so that it does not hurt a whole lot. The process should be finished by tomorrow when she wakes up."

_ studied him, then smiled.

"Do it." He did as he was told. They talked for awhile, watched as the serum took hold and forced _'s claws to retract. He then escorted them to the door once he was sure the young mutant would be fine.

"You may feel a little lighter in the morning," he told _. "The liquid metal I used was a special kind I've been working on. Light weight and as strong as Vibranium."

"Thank you, Tony."

"No problem, kid, but thank me later when your whole body isn't aching."

"No kidding. I owe you. You ever need a big favor just ask."

"Like I said, I was actually happy to help, this time."

"Tony, I don't think you understand. My claws are my pride, my weapons, my tools. I would have been crippled if not for you."

"A woman after my heart... Only, it's already taken." She laughed.

"Bye Tony."

"See ya, Wildcat. Take care."

The next morning, when _'s claws slid out as she stretched, they were a gleaming ivory metal, and her whole body felt lighter, stronger. The serum had replaced her bones with lightweight metal, and she felt closer to her dad more than ever.

They were both just metal skeletons walking around. She showed everyone her shiny new claws, and a certain genius received a picture of himself done in charcoal.


	2. Behind Every Smile

_Spoilers: The first Avengers movie, maybe a bit of both Thor movies._  
 _Warning: I am altering it so that it fits the movies, but also so that it will make sense and not be too confusing to understand._

A flash outside my room had me freezing, spooked. A deep, loud rumble that vibrated the house followed made me jump, and my best friend stared at me.

"What's wrong, Wildcat?" he asked. "Are you really afraid of a little thunder?"

Wildcat is just a nickname, my real name is _ Howlett. Yeah, you guessed it. Logan Howlett is my father.

"I'm not overly fond of what follows," I replied, looking out my window warily. It began to pour outside. I've been pretty jumpy about lightning ever since I got stuck in New York when those aliens tried to invade.

I'd engaged in fighting the aliens with the Avengers, when the one called Thor called upon the power of storms. Just as lightning flashed, one of those giant aliens that swam in the air had been put down and fallen. I tried to run, but it was so large that it had been impossible to avoid getting crushed by it. I couldn't get out, no matter how much I struggled and tried to use my claws to get free. I was stuck there for hours until somebody moved it.

What was odd was that it had been Loki who'd moved it. He scooped me up into his arms and he had this resigned look on his face as he strode towards the Avengers. When they saw me in his arms, trembling they immediately got ready to attack if necessary.

"Who is that, brother, and why are they bloodied and shaking?" Thor demanded. Loki looked down at me and I simply lifted my dog tags for him to see.

"Her name is _ Howlett, apparently," he replied in a bored tone. "I found her stuck under one of the Chitauri bodies. She was trapped and she's bound to feel claustrophobic now."

I looked into his green and blue eyes and they were anything but bored-sad, angry, pained, yes. But _far_ from boredom. I regain enough of my wits to manage a strangled whisper to be put down. He tries to set me down, but my head spins as blood rushes and I almost crumple to my knees. Instead of letting me fall, however, he quickly wrapped a steady arm sound my waist.

I look at him again, but this time, I'm struck by the dirt and blood on his face, the once perfect raven locks that had hints of brown and chestnut in disarray, the tears his arrogant smirk hides. I touch his cheek, yet I am ever wary of everyone and everything around me, just like my father taught me.

 _"Behind every smile is a thousand frowns, the prettiest eyes have cried the most tears,_ _and_ _the kindest hearts_ l _ie when they say they're fine,"_ I said, modifying a common quote.

His eyes lit up with a spark at that and he bent to hide his face in mine. Only I will know the tear he shed. How it ran down his high, proud cheekbones to land on my neck, hot and wet.

"I feel you," I murmured. Then he had surrendered and been taken away. I had been present as they muzzled him, saw how defeated he looked. I was the one who went over to them both and ignored Thor, touching his cheekbones, looking into his eyes.

"Should you ever lose yourself, come to me and we'll go look for you," I told him. He sighed and nodded. Only later when I was watching the news with my dad did I see that the cameras had caught me with him, including that last bit.

"Wildcat, daughter of Wolverine, was filmed to be with the one called Loki, and she appeared to awfully friendly with him," one reporter exclaimed. "What ties does she have to him, and was she friends to him? In the clip we're about to show you, she is seen to be talking to Loki."

Indeed, the camera had shown me dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, touching Loki's face. They even caught me murmuring to him, every single word. Needless to say, I got a lot of criticism for it. At one point, I was stopped on the street and pestered by a reporter. I was already fed up, so I snatched the microphone from her.

"Do any of you know what Loki may or may not have gone through to make him act like this? Do any of you have any idea of what kind of pain he may carry inside of him? I'm not making excuses for him. I know what he did and tried to do, but until you have a fucking clue, **piss off and leave it alone."**

Yeah, they shut up for it a bit afterward and I stopped getting irritated by reporters. That was two and a half years ago. Dad never questioned me about my actions, but I could tell he was proud of me for doing what I believed to be the right thing.

"You know what?" I said suddenly. "It's time for me to get past this stupid PTSD thing. I'm going out." Quicksilver shrugged.

"Whatever floats your boat, Wildcat," he said. "Don't get electrocuted."

"Haha," I said sarcastic as I zipped up my high collared leather jacket. "I'll see you in a bit. Don't worry if I don't return. I might go see how Natasha and Clint are doing."

"Okay," he said. "Be careful."


	3. Behind Every Smile 2

Despite the rain, and the rumble of the thunder vibrating in my feet, it was actually quite nice outside. The cold didn't bother me much, so I didn't give a shit if I got wet. The clouds had this pearly, goldfish pale pink rose color to them and I smiled.

 _I'll treasure this one._

I hummed as I walked, my collar length hair soaked and dripping. Living in the quieter, more forested part of New York had it's perks, such as being able to smell the wet earth and to hear the chatter of small animals as they sought shelter. I stopped in my tracks when I saw a tall man with dark hair appear from a rainbow beam of light five feet away from me.

When the light faded, he turned and I saw a familiar face. I smiled and walked over, assessing him as I did so. He works a black leather jacket, a bit of a dark green shirt peeking out, and his legs were clad in dark blue jeans and black combat boots. His dark brown and black hair fell a little past his shoulders, already getting longer as the weight of the water soaked strands dragged it down.

When I was only half a foot away, I looked up into those eyes of his. Green blue jewels, filled with so much more pain than last time, bleak and begging for release.

"Are you lost?" I asked softly, tilting my head.

"Was I ever here?" he replied, voice aching.

"We'll find you, somewhere," I replied.

He took one of my hands and studied it. Bone claws slid from the knuckles closest to my palm, covering my fingers like armor. The ends hung over my nails, sharp, hooked and deadly. He met my gaze as he bent and kissed my claws. My stomach flipped and my heart warmed.

Only my dad had ever treated my claws with such care. I smiled at him.

"Come on, Lost One," I retracted my claws and entwined my hand with his. "Let's go see if we can find you."

He looked down at our hands, and a faint smile tugged at his lips as his gaze returned to mine.

"Do you know where to look?"

"I might have an idea," I replied as I started walking again.

"I have some friends to visit. You've met them, controlled one of them."

"Are you sure it is wise to take me there?"

"Give me some credit, Loki Lost One. I can handle them. I am a Howlett."

"I'll trust you."

"Humbling words. I'll do my best to not break your faith."

We walked on.

"Is your name truly _?"

"Yes. My dad gave it to me."

"It suits you."

"Thank you."

"Always."


	4. We Live in a Beautiful World

I heard a loud shot ring out from his bedroom, followed by a moment of silence. Then slurred swearing. This could not be good. Usually the house was filled with loud, distinct swearing and video game sound effects. Not this.

Worried, I dashed down the hallway to his room and threw the door open, cracking it down the middle. What I saw stunned and saddened me. He lay on his back on his bed, a pool of his own blood soaking into the already dark red sheets, spilling from the hole in his skull that was already healing.

"Oh, Wade," I sighed. "Was it the yellow or white box, this time?" He flapped a hand and twirled his pinky finger, the sign that had evolved to mean White. I sat beside him and waited for his skull to fuse shut.

"You're lucky we buy red sheets instead of white, now," I told him. "I don't care if Al gave you that little trick with seltzer water and lemon juice, cotton is too easy to stain."

"Yew're, ril smat," he slurred, his brain still obviously under construction.

"Of course I am," I replied. "I may be the offspring of an insane god, but insanity doesn't equal stupidity. That applies to you as well, even though your stunt with Banner that one time was quite foolish." He sighed, and even through his mask i could tell his eyes had shut, his body language that of a defeated man.

"I canno' die," he sighed, his functionality improving vastly. "No matter 'ow much I may crave it."

"I feel for you, my friend," I stroked his brow bone through his mask. "We're both cursed in this way-longing for release but never to find it." I'd once cut out my own heart, but I grew another one within five hours. Like the Merc with a Mouth, here my regenerative process was super swift. Kinda sucked on the days when I felt suicidal.

You know, at one point, we put a gun in one another's mouth and pulled the trigger. You might think, holy fuck, that's really fucked up. But guess what, cupcake?

 _ **We**_ _are fucked up._

Sometimes this world is really ugly. Like shit down the drain and into your drinking water because somebody doesn't care enough to fucking filter it-kind of ugly.

And then there's things like the X-Men, the Avengers, academies dedicated solely to the fine arts and the cure for cancer and many other deadly diseases.

To be truthful, we really _do_ live in a beautiful world. Like one of my favorite book characters once said, "Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it."

"True dat," the merc muttered.

"Stop eavesdropping on my internal monologue, Wade," I replied. "Stick to your yellow and white boxes."

"But yours are so much cooler."

"Really, what do they look like?"

"One is a sort of lavender and the other is a grey box."

"Hmm. Interesting to know. Go get in the shower."

"Why?"

"Because you have brain matter, cerebral fluid and blood all over your fucking head and bedroom walls.

"Wanna join me?"

"Fuck no. I like you, but not in that way."

"Aww."

"You think brain matter is a turn on?"

"Well you _are_ really smart."

"Think _outside_ your skull, Wade. Now go, before I sever your trigger fingers _and_ your favorite appendage."

"I'm going, i'm going," he jumped up and ran into the bathroom.

Fucking suicidal mouthy-assed mercenary.

"I heard that, too," he called.

"Can you hear this?" I held up my middle finger.

"What's she doing? Aw, so not nice. And here I thought we were friends."

"We are," I called. "That's why my crazy plays nice with yours."

"Right."

"I don't hear any water running."

"Yes, mother."

"Shut up kid or I'll ground you."


	5. My Immortal

Despite everything, she was gone.

 _Your presence still lingers here._  
And it won't leave him alone

 _I can't seem to heal, the pain is just too real._  
There's just too much that time cannot erase.

 _And I held your hand through all of the years._  
When she'd scream, he'd fight away all of her fears.  
 _And I held your hand through all of the years._

She used to captivate him by her resonating light.  
 _Now, I'm bound to the life you left behind._

Her face, it haunts his dreams.  
 _Your voice chased away all the insanity in me._

He'd tried so hard to tell himself that she's gone.  
 _I keep waiting for her to come back, to help me raise our daughter._

The heartrending funeral, the rare, red streaked white roses on her grave.  
 _The pain of losing her would soon have led me to suicide, if not for Bella._

She was the spitting image of _.  
 _She'll always know how special her momma was-always hear of her stories and quirks._

In this way, she is immortal.  
 _My dearest _ is undying in this way._

As she'd once told him, "It is only when you stop telling their story, stop remembering them, that they are are truly dead."


End file.
